


The Truth, Part Three

by Seasider



Series: The Truth [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack Treated Seriously, Drama, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:34:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasider/pseuds/Seasider
Summary: “Ah-ha! I have you now!”Luke is sure that’s what his father thinks. And, honestly, he’s got what he wants, too— his DadVader. But it’s a rocky start for them.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Series: The Truth [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775602
Comments: 38
Kudos: 151





	1. Captured

**Author's Note:**

> Corresponds with FFN Chapter 21

_ Vader.  _ Luke was annoyed, scared, relieved, nervous... and a bit flattered that Darth Vader would come chasing after him.

"He wants you very badly." Jas swiveled his seat around and studied him. "Do you prefer to fight or surrender?"

"Fight Vader? I don't think we'd win." Anyway, he wouldn't mind spending some time with his dad. Maybe he and Vader could look for his mother's relatives together. Assuming, of course, that Vader was Anakin Skywalker, something he was still a little confused about.

"No, we would likely be killed." The Falleen's tone was cool. "That might be preferable to being captured and tortured, do you think?"

"Tortured? He wouldn't torture me... er, us. I'm pretty sure."

"I have heard stories of his methods. He will torture me. As for you..." Jas shrugged. "...it is said that the Force can both break and rebuild a being. Perhaps that is your fate."

"That's disgusting." Scowling, he peered out the viewscreen at the gray hull of a ship coming into focus above them. "I understand why you hate him, but nobody can be all bad. Besides, he wouldn't hurt me — I'm just a kid."

"There were children in Fayaet," Jas said quietly, but Luke pretended not to hear.

The other ship filled his vision for a few seconds before they were enveloped by darkness, and then they re-emerged into a hangar bay. A detachment of white-clad stormtroopers came running and, as best he could see, completely surrounded their small cruiser. Unlike his companion, Luke was unperturbed and found it all quite exciting. It was like a hologame - well, except it was real, of course, but he couldn't believe his maybe-dad would let anything bad happen to them.

The main hatch reverberated with pounding. Jas sent him a grim look and pressed the control to release the hatch. Five stormtroopers, rifles pointed at them, and an Imperial officer entered the ship.

"Jaslin Xenar," the officer intoned, "this ship is confiscated and you are being taken into Imperial custody on the charge of abduction of a minor child. Take him away." Two troopers cuffed Jas and led him off the ship. The officer watched them depart before adding, "Luke Skywalker, come with me."

"Who're you calling child?" he muttered under his breath, then:  _ Luke Skywalker! _ It was the first time anyone had said his real name! Daydreaming for a few seconds, he followed the older man without paying attention, but when they stepped out of the ship and into the large bay, he was reminded of his situation. Was he an Imperial prisoner, too? No, that was impossible. He wasn't cuffed and his pop was Darth Vader; no one would dare arrest him.

Nervous and excited, Luke chattered and studied his surroundings as they walked. "This is a really big hanger bay! Does this ship have other hangers? What kind of ship is it? It's really big, isn't it? Are you the captain? Is Lord Vader here? Is  _ he _ the captain?" The man wasn't answering, but Luke was afraid to stop talking in case the officer said something he didn't want to hear. "What's your name? Does the ship have laser cannons and torpedoes? Can I see the cockpit or helm or whatever you call it?"

A muscle twitched in the man's jaw.

"Am I a prisoner or a guest?" Luke added hastily. "Do I get to wear a uniform, too? I'm hungry. Is it time for lunch yet? Or is it dinnertime? Do you count time in space the same as we do on planets? If different planets have their own times, how do you — "

The officer raised his hand and came to a halt, meeting Luke's gaze with what looked like amusement in his eyes, though his face was perfectly official and serious. Luke stopped and waited, hoping his shaking was invisible. "I am Captain Piett. This is the Imperial Starship Devastator, Lord Vader's flagship of the fleet. The armament of this ship is a confidential matter. You will be advised when you will be fed. It is approximately 1500 hours. Imperial ships keep Imperial Center time. Is there anything else?"

He blinked. "Umm... am I a prisoner?"

"That remains to be seen," Captain Piett replied, reaching over his shoulder to press a button on the wall. A door slid open. "For now, this will be your quarters. It will be locked and you will are forbidden to leave."

Luke peered into the dimly lit room and took a few cautious steps inside. It didn't look so bad. He relaxed slightly. "You have kids, don't you?"

This particular question was ignored. "Please remain quietly in this room and do not destroy any Imperial property."

"Like I would!" He rolled his eyes at the preposterousness of the suggestion. "Is Lord Vader coming?"

"Perhaps you should take a nap. Good day."

The door slid shut, cutting him off from the captain while he was spluttering in indignation. "A nap!"

As it turned out, he did fall asleep, although he would never admit it to anyone, especially his father who needed to realize that he was practically an adult and too old to boss around. Fortunately, he woke on his own without 'anyone' being the wiser and discovered that the fresher had a regular sonic shower, not water like he'd hoped. Taking a full water-shower was one of his goals in life. After a fast in-and-out, he felt clean again, but it was disconcerting to peek into the sleeping area and see new clothes lying on the bunk. Obviously there was no one in the room right now, but still: "Hello? Anybody here?"

There was no reply, so he deemed it safe to expose himself. He dashed into the room, grabbed the clothes, then scurried back to the sani. He dressed, disappointed that they'd given him a boring gray jumpsuit instead of a snappy uniform. It had pockets on both thighs, though he had nothing to put in them, and a utility belt, though he had nothing to hook on it.

Restless and edgy, he prowled the small quarters, taking about ten seconds to circle the entire place. He peered into empty built-in shelves and tried to peek under the bunk, but it was welded to the floor. There had to be listening devices, right?

"Hello? I'm bored. Can I get out? Is it time to eat? When is Lord Vader coming to see me? What happened to my friend Jas?"

He waited, but no answers came. Maybe there wasn't even a speaker in here. What if there was an emergency and the ship had to be evacuated and they forgot about him and left him here to die? "Helloooooo!"

Nothing. He needed to say something guaranteed to get a response, so: "Vader is a crazy krit and all Imps are bantha-krit!" After a pause, he added: "Don't forget I'm in here. And I have nothing to do! There isn't even a vidscreen!"

Irritated, he tried the door, but it was still locked. Maybe the Force would work on it. Luke closed his eyes and concentrated on opening the door. Nothing happened. Frustrated, he gave it a few kicks but succeeded only in hurting his foot. He heaved a great sigh and sat on the edge of the bunk. Maybe his father was going to let him rot in here. Or not let him out until he was delivered to the Emperor who would probably torture him.

He lay back, tucked his hands behind his head, and stared up at the gray ceiling. Gray, gray, gray, everything was gray and boring. His entire life was in the balance, and he was locked in a gray room with no information and no food. With nothing else to do, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep again.


	2. Because of COURSE he does!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke tries to escape, even though he doesn’t want to leave. Just because.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN Chapter 22

A clanging noise woke him and he shot into a sitting position. A soldier was in his room, putting a tray on the small metal table.

"Is that dinner?" Luke asked eagerly, pretending he'd been awake and alert and that the man's presence wasn't a surprise.

"Yes."

"Thanks!" He hurried over. "Do you know what's happening? Or where my friend is? Or when Darth Vader is coming to visit me? Or when I'm getting out of here? Anything?"

The soldier looked him up and down. Luke did the same thing. The other man was sort of young, but looked tired. "I'll be sure to ask Lord Vader to add you to his agenda," he said sarcastically, turning to leave.

Scowling, Luke balled his fists and put them on his waist. "Do you know who I am?" he demanded.

"Don't know, don't care," the soldier responded and walked out the door. It slid shut with a sharp click, and Luke knew he was locked in again. At least this time he had food. And if Vader was feeding him, that meant he wouldn't be killed... right?

He removed the cover and stared at the plate. Nothing on it was familiar to him. Guess the rest of the galaxy ate differently from Tatooine. He sampled a pale lump that evidently was some sort of meat. It had an odd after-taste. Maybe it was poisoned... maybe Vader had decided to kill him slowly and painfully. Damn, what he wouldn't give for a big banthaburger right about now.

The yellow lumps were vegetables, nothing surprising about that non-flavor. He uncapped the beverage. It was white. He swallowed a mouthful. "Milk?" he called out. "What does a guy have to do to get a real drink around here?" Milk, like he was a baby. "Blech."

But it was this or starve to death, so he finished everything, even the milk. He wondered if the soldier would come back to pick up the tray. How could there not even be a vidscreen in these quarters? Or a computer set up to play games? What in hells did military people do in their spare time? He had no idea, but he did know what prisoners did: they escaped!

If his maybe-father couldn't be bothered to check on him, he would just leave. Vader thought he was a child - well, he'd find out differently. Maybe Luke Skywalker was confused and out of his element here, but Oz was street-smart. Oz took care of a herd of children for months. Oz was clever; he'd find Jas and they would escape together. Then Vader would be sorry!

The idea perked up his spirits. He twisted the utility belt around his waist, inspecting it closely. There was a small metal fastener that looked like it might be useful. After a few twists and tugs, it came off. Luke dragged the chair to the center of the room and stood on it. He couldn't reach the ceiling, so he hauled over the table and climbed onto that. With a smug smile, he squeezed the fastener flat and used it to turn the screws on the plate that covered the fan vent. It was awkward work, but after several minutes, he was able to remove the plate. His grip on it slipped and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter. He waited a few seconds, but no one came to investigate, so he grabbed the edges of the opening and heaved himself up. As he suspected, the duct was wide enough to allow him easy access. He could crawl through it and, with any luck, find the ship's brig and Jas.

His rescue mission went smoothly for several minutes. The ductwork made a few sharp turns, but he was pretty certain he could find his way back if he needed to. There were a couple access plates that were screened instead of solid, and they allowed in enough light so he could see. Not that there was anything to see but more gray metal.

The duct narrowed, forcing him to drop lower and use his elbows to pull himself through in a shimmying fashion. He came to another solid wall and wriggled around the sharp turn. And came to a sudden stop.

His utility belt was caught on something.

Luke twisted his hips, but the belt didn't come loose. He tried to back up, but found he couldn't move at all. He tried to move forward again. No luck.

Well, he'd just remove the belt. But he couldn't move his arms backward to unfasten it. He tried to roll onto his side. His shoulder hit the top of the duct. No problem, he'd just hold this position and squish his arm down and...

That didn't work. Now his arm was stuck, too. He lay still, considering his options. He could chew off his arm and free himself. He could wait until someone noticed he was gone and came looking for him. But they wouldn't know where in the ducts he was. He could yell for help...but what if he was in a storeroom or a deserted area where no one ever came? He could starve to death. But before that happened, he'd have to go to the fresher.

"Ewww," he muttered. Well, okay then, he had to ignore his pride. "HELLLLP!" he yelled, trying to bang his fists and heels against the duct. "Get me outta here!"

It was mortifying, but he had to continue shouting for help. A desert kid shouldn't be in a ship anyway, not even Oz, and especially not in a heating duct. Who knew they were so small and full of sharp edges to catch him on? It wasn't his fault, and his maybe-father couldn't blame him!

After endless minutes of pounding, he heard voices, then clunking and scraping. A few minutes later, a voice called from somewhere behind him: "Luke Skywalker! Come back this way and get out of there immediately!"

Oh, like it was so simple! "I can't, I'm stuck!"  _ You moron, _ he added silently. "Don't you think I would if I could!"

Silence fell. After more minutes of absolutely nothing, Luke called, "You're not going to leave me here, are you?"

No one answered. With a sigh, he rested the side of his face on the cool metal plating. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic and panicking just a little. What if Vader decided to leave him here? He was going to die slowly and horribly and his skeleton would rattle in the duct forever. Maybe his ghost would haunt the ship.

Suddenly he heard a loud hum and sparks appeared along one side him, then the other. Before he could react, the duct opened up to blinding light and he fell, hearing the shriek of metal, the sound of tearing cloth – and the thud of himself, landing hard on the deck.

"Ow!" he complained, struggling to recover from the sudden shock. Gingerly he moved his body. Nothing seemed to be broken. "That hurt!" Looking up, he found himself surrounded by officers and troopers. No one looked sympathetic about his possible injuries, and he gulped.

"Take him to a detention cell," a familiar deep voice said crossly.

Tilting his head back, he saw the upside-down figure of father hooking a lightsaber to his belt as he stalked off. "Hey, wait!" Twisting around and stumbling to his feet, he watched Vader disappear down the corridor. "Wait!"

"You destroyed Imperial property," someone said in clipped tones. "Look at this damage."

Turning, he saw a very stern Captain Piett pointing to the smooth cuts the lightsaber had made in the ceiling. It was a big hole, all right. "Don't blame me,  _ he _ did it!" Luke declared defensively, pointing in the direction of his dearly departed Dark Lord maybe-father.

Piett ignored his excuse. "Take him to detention," he told the stormtroopers.

Luke was marched off. By the time they arrived at the detention cell, he realized that he probably should have apologized to the captain. But it was too late.


	3. A Nice Chat with Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke sent a terrified glance at the black figure, then put his forehead on his knees and closed his eyes. "Just kill me quick," he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to FFN Chapter 23

Maybe Jas was locked up near by, but after a few seconds of hollering, Luke decided that he couldn't be heard outside his cell. There were no windows and the door appeared to be airtight. He was going to use up all the oxygen and die in here. He sat on the hard ledge that couldn't possibly be a bed and pulled his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs and sighing. It was a tiring job, maintaining this level of resistance and defiance... pretending not to care about anything, when what he really wanted to do was get to know his father. Even if his father was Darth Vader. Maybe.

Since that momentous day when he'd first read the name "Anakin Skywalker", he'd continued wondering if Vader was really his father or not. Sometimes the idea was terrifying, but other times it was breathtaking. Imagine, ruling the galaxy at the side of the Dark Lord! They could get rid of Palpatine and make the galaxy a better place. It was a wild fairytale, a soaring adventure, and it could be his life. But now it appeared that the reality was nothing like his dreams. The real Vader was neither Evil Sith nor Doting Dad. The real Vader didn't even try to understand him and sure didn't feel any love or respect for him. As for what Luke Skywalker felt for Vader... well, nothing good. Fear, uncertainty, disappointment... True, there was that tingly feeling, but Vader said that was the Force, not a father-son thing. Did that mean Vader wasn't his father? But that would leave only Anakin Skywalker... who was dead.

If he really  _ was _ twelve years old, he would feel sad enough to cry, but he was fifteen and practically an adult and it was time he started acting more like one. Men didn't cry, though he wasn't sure what men  _ did _ do in situations like this. It wasn't something he could ask his maybe-father. He was willing to bet that Darth Vader had never cried in his entire life.

He rocked back and forth, humming a little in an effort to stop his brain from thinking. It didn't seem to be working because he continued to have thoughts about the varied and horrible things that might happen to him here. Torture at the hands of the Emperor— or worse and almost unthinkable... his maybe-father might torture him. Maybe Vader wouldn't even like him, let alone...

Tatooine hadn't been all that bad. He should've stayed on the farm. Yeah, he would have been bored forever and probably hated his life, but at least he would have had a life. Now that might no longer be a possibility.

Without warning, without a tingle or a chill or any other kind of premonition, the door to his cell slid open. Luke sent a terrified glance at the black figure, then put his forehead on his knees and closed his eyes. "Just kill me quick," he whispered.

"Do not indulge in melodrama, it is wasted on me," Vader stated.

He didn't comment, but turned his head to the side and opened one eye, checking the hem of the black garments to see if a toe was tapping. It wasn't.

"What did you hope to accomplish by such foolish actions?"

"Nothin'," he muttered sullenly and closed his eye again.

"What did you hope to accomplish?"

Was repeating every question an Imp habit? "I said—  _ noth-ing!" _

Twin iron grips encircled his wrists and pulled him into a standing position. "Address me respectfully and answer me truthfully. What did you hope to accomplish?"

Sighing loudly, Luke tried to look anywhere but up. He settled for focusing on the set of switches on Vader's chest. Maybe he should turn off a couple to see what would happen. "I wanted to find Jas and escape."

"You cannot escape this ship. That is an absurd idea."

"If you say so." Luke shrugged, and his arms were released.

"The Falleen abducted you."

"He thought he was saving me. From  _ you." _

"He was taking you to Xizor."

"He just  _ said _ he worked for Xizor Transport. He made that up."

"You are naïve."

"And you're still a bully! And you don't get it!" He took a step back and glared at the unreadable mask. Lifting his hand, he tapped the black helmet. "Knock, knock, anybody hom—"

Before he could finish, he was pinned against the wall — high, higher than Vader's head. Fingers of steel curled around his throat, cutting off his words and his breath. Dimly he was aware that however frightened he had ever been in his life, he had never truly felt fear before this moment. This was  _ it _ \- the end!

"Take care, child," Vader murmured in a harsh tone that was clearly a warning, not a blessing. "No one treats me with disrespect. Not even you."

Dark spots appeared behind his eyelids and he felt consciousness slipping away. Then he was released and held steady as he gasped for precious air. It took seconds — maybe minutes — he didn't know how long — before he recovered enough to talk. Dizzy and a little nauseated, he leaned heavily on the leather-clad arm that steadied him and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind:

_ "Even me?" _ He looked up through lashes that shimmered with unshed tears. "That means I'm special. That means I  _ am _ your son! Why can't you just say so?"

"You are alive... for the moment." The Sith Lord withdrew his support, folding his arms and leaving Luke to weave unsteadily. "That speaks of your importance."

Sinking onto the hard bench, Luke sighed. "I guess I wasn't so important fifteen years ago, was I?"

There was no hint of motion in the dark figure, but Luke felt something he couldn't describe, almost like a ripple in his mind. It was from Vader, that much he was certain, but he didn't know what it meant. "Did you not want me or what? Why did you leave me on Tatooine? Why did I grow up without parents?"

The ripple became a gale. As if its power was too strong to resist, Vader turned and walked a few steps away. "Put aside useless dreams of the past and focus on the future."

"Are you talking to me or yourself?" he asked shrewdly.

Vader whirled and shook a finger in his direction. "Do not mock me, child, or you will pay dearly."

"Yeah, right." Luke rolled his eyes. "Let's see, you've killed the people who raised me, destroyed my home, taken me away from the kids I was protecting, arrested the guy who was trying to save me, choked me a couple times... What am I missing? What else could you possibly do except kill me? Ben always said you'd do that, so it wouldn't be any surprise."

"Who is this 'Ben'?" Even through the vocoder, the voice sounded irritated.

"Ben Kenobi, an old—"

_ "Kenobi!" _

Well, that name certainly struck a chord in the big guy. "Friend of yours?" he asked sarcastically.

"Where is he?"

"Dead." Curious, Luke studied the Sith. There was no physical change he could see, but the ripple in his mind grew stronger and he had the impression of a storm, a violent, sweeping storm of sand or... something else. It was as if Vader's mere presence was letting him get closer to the Force. He couldn't interpret what he was feeling - but just imagine if he let Vader teach him! He could learn everything. "When I was little, he told me you were my father and that you would kill me. Or make me evil. I guess you two really hated each other?"

"He was my friend... and he took everything from me." It was a whisper, raw-edged and richly laced with unspoken memories.

"Sort of like you did to me," Luke commented softly.

He wondered if the jab would hurt. Vader flinched visibly and that pleased Luke.  _ I want to hurt you,  _ he thought meanly.  _ I want to pay you back. I want to hurt you until you... until... _

"Until what?"

Livid, he glared at the Dark Lord. "Stay out of my head!"  _ If you're my father, you're supposed to know what to say! You're supposed to... to... feel something for me. _

"You ask for what I cannot give," Vader said, and Luke didn't know if he was answering the warning or the thought. Either way, he didn't like the reply.

"Whatever," he said dismissively. "Are you going to keep me here?"

The helmet tilted slightly. "I am keeping you."

Something in Vader's voice made him shiver. It was so... possessive. Luke wasn't sure if he was afraid or pleased. "Will you let Jas go?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm asking you," Luke muttered. "He didn't hurt me. Just get my lightsaber from him first, will you?"

_ "Your _ lightsaber."

"What?" he snapped. "Is it yours? I'm not stupid, I know it was planted to lure me out. Okay, so you got me. Now I want the saber."

"I see." Vader folded his arms again, evidently his favored position. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it." Luke stood up and mirrored the posture by folding his own arms. "I want my backpack that I left in Eisley. Do you have it?"

"Filthy clothes and contraband."

"And my skyhopper!" he added, outraged at the easy dismissal of his belongings. "My best friend made that and I want it back!"

"How disappointing. I had hoped the model was a demonstration of your talent."

He flushed, caught off guard. "I'll give you a demonstration of my talent some day!" he retorted.

"I look forward to that day, young one." With a dramatic swirl of his cape, the Dark Lord turned to the exit. Immediately the door opened for him.

"Hold it!" Luke called, panicking. "I need my 'hopper! And let Jas go! And I don't want to stay here. Can I have another room? I promise not to take it apart - I swear!"

Vader gestured to someone unseen. "I leave such decisions to you," he said and continued on his way.

"Yes, my lord."

Luke sighed as Captain Piett entered and stood very straight, hands clasped behind his back. "You have a request?"

"A couple, actually." He flashed his best smile at the ship's commander. "A real room to stay in? I promise not to destroy any more property. And I'm sorry I messed up your ship – it was an accident, honest! I just wanted to... umm... explore. Or maybe... okay, I wanted to escape," he added when Piett didn't respond positively. "Dumb idea, hunh?"

"Definitely unwise."

"Yeah." He was starting to like this guy. "But that's all I want, just a room to stay in instead of a cell. He has the other stuff I want – like my pack and my model skyhopper. Oh – unless you can let my friend go? He didn't kidnap me, he thought he was saving me from Vader. That's a pretty logical assumption, don't you think?"

The incline of the head allowed that yes, indeed, it was logical.

This was looking promising. "If I'm going to be here for awhile, maybe I could have a holovid in my room? And some snacks? Maybe something to do? I could fix stuff for you, I'm good with my hands. In fact," he continued, warming to his subject, "I wanted to enlist as a mechanic - they said I was too young, but that was a long time ago." Pausing, he studied the solemn face. "Or do you think Vader's going to kill me?"

Piett raised one eyebrow at the last suggestion. "I think... that we can find other quarters for you. If I have your solemn promise that you will not destroy any more Imperial property."

"I swear!" Luke said eagerly. "Anything, I just want out of here! And I would like to not be killed, please."

A small smile quivered along the edges of the captain's mouth. "Perhaps if you were more judicious in your choice of words...?"

Luke looked at him blankly. "What do you mean?"

Piett didn't answer him, which was an annoying and rude adult habit, but instead gestured to a uniformed man wearing very few rank insignia. After a brief conference, the man jerked his head to indicate Luke should follow him.

"Thanks, Cap!" He gave Piett a casual, two-fingered salute and followed the other man.

"And, Sergeant," the captain called as an afterthought, "take him to the barber first."

Barber? He was so horrified, he couldn't even form words to protest. As if his life wasn't messed up enough, now they were going to give him one of those military haircuts. But... maybe that meant they were going to let him enlist! Maybe Vader was going to let him be an ordinary soldier.

_ Ordinary? _

No... that wasn't an option.


	4. Showing Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN Chapter 24

Morning took a long time arriving because it took forever for him to fall asleep. The ship was full of strange noises. His room was totally dark except for a faint light coming from a ceiling vent, providing only enough illumination to create shadows in the corners. Luke woke with a jolt and lay in bed for several minutes, breathing fast from the terrifying nightmares that had woken him several times during the night. He didn't remember anything about them, except that there had been a lot of darkness, he couldn't see and he was scared by... something. Maybe he'd dreamt about Vader; that wouldn't be surprising. The upshot of the sleep-disturbed night was that he was exhausted, more tired than he'd been yesterday. And his brain that was tired, too, from everything he'd learned. He'd never expected Vader to allow him to have a computer that linked into the Galactic Database. Or maybe it was Captain Piett who'd done it.

Either way, he'd found some new stuff about Anakin Skywalker, that he'd been a heroic Jedi and a supporter of the "right" form of government - that turned out to be the Empire, no surprise there. But the biggest gift was finding out about his mother, Padme Amidala or Naberrie or whatever - she had been a senator and a queen, his mother had been a  _ queen!  _ He had a lot of mixed feelings about that. It didn't surprise him that Anakin Skywalker Vader had courted a queen because Vader was pretty amazing. But Luke felt uncomfortable that he was the son of a queen... he sure didn't look or act like a prince. No wonder Vader was disappointed in him. There was a saying that Aunt Beru had scolded him with a couple times. His memory was hazy about the exact quote, but his interpretation of it in this situation was: if he would be a better son, maybe Vader would be a better father. It was worth a try. He'd be better than good, he'd be perfect - how hard could that be?

_ Hello, I am Lord Vader and this is my Perfect Son Luke. _

But... what if Vader didn't want a son? Nowhere in the Database did it mention that Padme married - or ever had a baby, for that matter. So it must have been a big secret, maybe a shameful one. He supposed that when Uncle Owen called him a sithspawn bastard, he'd meant it literally.

Slowly he wriggled his body around until his legs flopped over the edge of the bed and the floor brushed his feet. He propped himself on his elbows, resting for a moment before gingerly pushing into a sitting position. The bed was a mess, sheets tangled and twisted in mute testimony to his night terrors. With a yawn, Luke stood and stretched. If he was going to get Perfect, it was time to start. Rubbing his eyes, he staggered into the fresher.

The sonic shower made him feel only marginally better. He combed his hair, delaying looking in the mirror. Dressing quickly - he still hated the jumpsuit - he drew a deep breath and steeled himself to check his reflection.

His hair was... well, not  _ too _ short, but it barely touched his collar now. Still, the various bright colors that had never quite come out of the ends had been cut off, making him look a little more civilized. He straightened, realizing he looked much more Perfect. Except for those... shadows? No... what  _ was _ that?

Leaning forward, he spread his collar wider. His throat was black and purple and blue. Rubbing it with his forefinger made him wince. That wasn't dirt, it was bruises. From his father choking him.

His vision blurred and he took several deep breaths to clear it. He would be a better son and Vader would be a better father. Until then, he couldn't let anyone see the marks. He fastened the buttons to the top and turned up the collar. Only the edges of the bruises were barely visible. No one would know that his father had--

Wait a minute! No one knew he was Vader's son. They thought he was a Jedi, in which case the bruises were acceptable, even a mark of bravery that he'd lived through a confrontation with the Dark Lord. Still... he left the collar buttoned high.

He heard the sound of his door sliding open. "Doesn't anyone knock around here?" he grumbled before stepping into the main room. Captain Piett stood there and Luke was surprisingly glad to see him. "Hi!" he said cheerfully. "Did you come to visit me?"

"I came to escort you to sick bay," Piett said, not returning the smile, though it looked like it was a struggle to keep his lips in a straight line.

"I'm not sick!" He tried again, this time with his absolute widest, friendliest smile. "Just hungry!"

"You're having blood tests and a general physical, then you may eat. Are you ready?"

"What do I have to get ready?" he pointed out as he followed the officer into the corridor. "Are you in charge of me? Why isn't someone else dragging me around, like an ensign or whoever?"

"Evidently," Piett replied crisply as they stood in front of an elevator, "shepherding you takes precedence over commanding this ship."

"Oh." Luke grimaced. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," the man said shortly, then added so crossly and quietly that Luke knew he was talking to himself, "Not when there's an admiral on board."

The elevator arrived and they entered, making the fast trip in silence. Arriving on another level, Luke found himself in an identically boring and impersonal corridor. There was very little of interest to observe, so he amused himself by marching in step with the captain and pretending he was an officer, too. That entertained him for a good ten seconds.

"Do you like Vader?"

Piett shot him a reprimanding glance. "Lord Vader is commander of the Imperial Fleet."

Well, it didn't sound like the captain was going to be forthcoming with any gossip, like if his dad had a girlfriend and if said imaginary girlfriend would tolerate a nearly-grown son. "What do you know about me?" he asked curiously.

"Your name is Luke Skywalker and Lord Vader ordered your capture."

"That's it?" Krit. That meant he probably shouldn't tell Piett that Vader was his dad. "He didn't say why he wanted me?"

"Don't you know?" Piett didn't seem particularly interested. In fact, he seemed eager to abandon his charge in front the door labeled Infirmary.

Luke was a little miffed about being brushed off. "Well," he said innocently as they entered the medical area, "I think it's because of this." Holding out his hand, he employed one of the few Force tricks he could usually manage. A datapad flew across the room and into his hand. He grinned. "You think that's why?"


	5. Medical Tests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN Chapter 25

A scowling, gray-haired man wearing a medical tunic snatched the datapad from him. "I want him under guard while I examine him."

"I'll be good!" Luke vowed, looking away from the stern physician to his new friend Piett. But the captain didn't look too friendly right now. "Honest. No guards required."

"I'll have a trooper posted outside the door," Piett told the doctor, then frowned at Luke. "Please do not attempt any more Jedi tricks or I will be forced to restrain you."

"I won't. Anyway, I can only do little tricks. I'm self-taught," he added proudly.

Piett folded his arms. "Proceed with your examination, doctor."

The doctor wore no name badge, so Luke decided to call him 'Doc'. "What're you going to do to me, Doc? I'm ticklish, y'know, so be careful."

"On the table and remove your shirt." The eyes were steel-gray and expressionless.

Luke fidgeted under that gaze. "Umm... why?" he asked, stalling. If the doctor saw the bruises, there would be questions.

"Captain," Doc said in an exasperated tone.

"Do as the doctor asks," Piett commanded.

"He didn't ask," Luke pointed out. But they continued staring at him, so he hopped onto the exam table and unbuttoned the tunic as slowly as he could, hoping they would get tired of waiting and tell him to skip it.

Like so many of his desires, it was evidently going to remain unfulfilled. He let the tunic drop around his waist and looked down, not wanting to see their expressions.

"I see you've met the Sith Lord," Doc said, chuckling unpleasantly.

"Doctor," Piett scolded, mirroring the physician's earlier exasperation.

"Captain, this examination will proceed much faster if you don't interrupt. I suggest you wait outside."

"Very well." Piett hesitated when Luke sent him a horrified glance. "Don't be afraid, you'll be fine."

"I'm not afraid!" he lied stoutly.

The doctor waved his hand at Piett. "Go on, I won't kill him."

"That's reassuring," Luke mumbled, wishing Piett wouldn't leave. "I won't mind if you want to stay. Really."

The captain walked over to the door, paused to study him, then remained inside the infirmary, arms folded, watching them. Luke felt better. The doctor grumbled something inaudible.

As it turned out, Luke had been worried for no reason. He'd never had a physical, but it was simple and painless. Even the blood test didn't hurt, and he couldn't help comparing the Alderaani bloodsucker's technique with this doctor.

"You're relatively healthy," Doc finally pronounced. "Vader will love your blood sample."

Luke had no idea what that meant. "Why?"

"I'm sure he'll explain before he kills you," Doc said mildly. "You can put your shirt back on."

Quickly he thrust his arms into the tunic, managing to twist it while he wriggled. "I'm just a kid, he wouldn't kill me! I don't think."

"Kill you or keep you prisoner. Either way, the end result will be the same. You never should have let yourself be captured by the bounty hunter."

"What bounty hunter?" Luke exclaimed.

"Doctor, enough!" Piett said sternly. "If you are finished, I'll take Luke now."

"Not quite." Doc handed Luke a small packet. "Put one of these patches on your chest before retiring for the night. Be sure to use them all."

"What for?" He turned the packet over, bewildered.

"Spice withdrawal causes night terrors. These will ease the symptoms. Now get out of my sickbay." Doc waved them away.

Luke followed on Piett's heels, barely holding in questions until they were in the corridor. "Are you spying on me at night? So I had a nightmare – big deal! I don't need these patch things!" He was furious, embarrassed, and hurt. "I'm not an addict! He's a liar!" He tried to corral his emotions but that was doomed to failure. "What bounty hunter? What's he talking about? Vader caught me and Jas, not some bounty hunter! I hate it here!"

The captain sighed. "Luke, please settle down. The doctor was referring to the Falleen, but we have no indication that he was a bounty hunter."

"What about the spying part?" he asked suspiciously.

"You are monitored in your quarters," the captain conceded, sounding as though he would add more but evidently thinking better of it.

"I don't like that," Luke replied flatly. "And I'm not having withdrawal. That doctor should be punished for saying so."

"He was only interpreting your blood test," Piett said firmly.

Krit! It was so humiliating! Spice was supposed to be relaxing, just for fun. "Everybody does it," he muttered. "It's not supposed to be...addictive."  _ Get real. You know it's bad for you, _ he scolded himself.  _ You don't want to admit it, but you know. _

He came to a sudden halt.

"What is it?"

"He's coming." It was like standing in the desert and feeling an approaching sandstorm throbbing beneath his boots. He couldn't see it or hear it or smell it, but he knew it was coming. He had that feeling now, only the throbbing was in his heart instead of his feet. "Vader."

"Try to be more circumspect than you have been," Piett advised.

"My thoughts exactly," and he chanted to himself:  _ Perfect Son, Perfect Son, Perfect Son. Perfect Spice-Addicted Son. _


	6. Perfect Son, Not Really

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN 26

The object of his good intentions loomed over him, bigger and darker than ever. "Hello, sir," he said politely to the Sith and was answered only by regulated breathing. 

Vader held out his hand.

"Here are the results, my lord," Piett responded, producing a medical datapad.

Vader scanned it briefly, then it disappeared, presumably into a pocket, though Luke had a hard time believing that sleek uniform had any pockets. "Thank you, Captain, you are dismissed. Young one, come with me."

Piett gave a clipped bow. "Yes, my lord." He smiled slightly. "Good-bye, Luke."

The Dark Lord had already turned away, and Luke had to lengthen his strides to catch up and stay with him. "Did you hear that? He called me 'Luke'."

"He will be severely reprimanded."

"What!" Uncertain, he looked sideways at his maybe-sire. Was Vader serious or did he have a sense of humor? "I just meant that you could call me that, too. Instead of 'Skywalker' or 'young one'. If you want..." His words trailed off.

He was getting used to Vader's lack of responsiveness. It annoyed him, but he reminded himself that Perfect Son wouldn't comment on it. "Would you have some time so we could talk? Sometime? Please? Sir?"

The black helmet swiveled and shiny eye pieces regarded him. It was like being stared at by a giant mutant insect from a horror holovid. After several seconds of surveillance, Vader said, "Now is convenient. Come with me."

"Great!" he agreed happily, before remembering that most of the stuff he wanted to talk to Vader about wasn't very pleasant. "So... the doctor said my friend Jas is a bounty hunter."

From behind the mask came a sound like a snort. "The doctor is a gossip-monger. Your abductor - who is _not_ your friend - is a foolish young one who thought to curry favor with Xizor by thwarting me."

 _Thwart!_ There was that great word again. Falleens sure enjoyed thwarting Vader. "What're you gonna- " _Perfect Son._ "I mean... please, sir, what will happen to him? You're not going to hurt him, are you? He didn't do anything to me."

"His ship has been confiscated and he is on his way back to Falleen, where his father is awaiting his arrival, no doubt most displeased with the loss of his ship as well as with his son."

Something said, _as I am with mine,_ but Luke figured it was his imagination. He increased his pace to a trot to keep up with Vader's long strides and was breathless by the time they entered an elevator.

"Are we going to Naboo now?"

"No."

So much for finding his mother's family. "Are we going to Coruscant?"

"Imperial Center. And no." The head swiveled and the bug eyes stared at him. "You are an embarrassment. I will not present you to my master until you are ready."

He swallowed his immediate response of indignation. "What do you mean by 'ready'?" he inquired carefully.

"When you have learned proper manners and behavior."

Okay, then. Obviously it was time to rethink the Perfect Son plan. So he thought about it for two seconds before banishing the idea. Being perfect was too much trouble anyway.

"Like that's gonna happen," he commented sarcastically as the elevator came to halt and they entered yet another personality-free gray corridor. "I don't need patches to sleep! It's hard enough to wake up naturally. There's no sun in space! How am I supposed to wake up?"

"There are many suns in space."

He made a scoffing sound. "You know what I mean! Krit, this is a long walk! When are we going to get there? Where are we going?"

"We have arrived." Vader halted by a closed door, pressed the panel to open it, then marched inside.

Luke followed, a little worried that he wasn't being annoying enough. The longer he could put off the trip to Coruscant— okay, _Imperial Center,_ the better. "Arrived where? What is this? Krit, what's that thing?" Immediately he headed for a huge metal ball at one end of the boring room. "I could fit inside there! _Ten_ of me could fit inside there!"

"Stay away from it," Vader snarled. "It is my meditation pod and I will not allow you to disrupt its serenity."

"Well, exsqueeeeze me! I wouldn't want to punch a hole in your lordship's big black bubble!" There. That should convince the big guy that it would be a very, very long time before he was ready to be presented to King Ugly. Like maybe never.

Somehow, some way, Luke found himself airborne. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, just... unsettling. He needed to learn to do this! He floated toward a small conference table and landed in a chair with a thump.

"Sit!" Vader commanded.

"Hello, are you blind? I'm sitting! Good thing this seat is padded or I'd have one sore butt!" He put his elbows on the table and gestured to the opposite chair. "Take a load off. Let's talk."

"You," Vader thundered, "are insolent!" The Dark Lord paced back and forth. "You are a disgrace to the name of Skywalker. I am heartily ashamed of you. You are – "

" _You're_ ashamed of _me?"_ he interrupted, jumping to his feet. The chair fell back onto the floor with a loud clatter. "After the stuff you've done? Jas told me about that Falleen city, how you killed everybody, even the kids! You should be ashamed of _yourself,_ not me!" He folded his arms and glared. "How do you think _I_ feel, having a father I'm ashamed of?"

There was a moment of stunned silence, following by what sounded suspiciously like stuttering. If Darth Vader could stutter. "I – You – I – You are a thief and a drunk!" The medical datapad reappeared and Vader slammed it on the table. "You are a spice addict! Have you no brain? Spice is poison!"

"Don't change the subject! And I'm not an addict, I haven't had spice for ages!" Even if the accusations were true, they still hurt. "So I'm not perfect, what did you expect? I'm _your_ son! Nobody ever expected me to be anything but – but... evil," he finished, suddenly struck by the truth that he'd never thought deeply about before. "Nobody expected anything good from me."

"You certainly fulfilled their expectations," Vader huffed righteously. "How you have managed to live so long - I can only believe it is because your Destiny is stronger than your will to self-destruct."

That was definitely 'destiny-with-a-capital-D'. "What Destiny would that be?" His anger re-ignited. "Following in your footsteps? Being a killer? No wonder I'm a disappointment to you – I'm only a thief and a spice user!" He yanked the chair upright, holding onto it for a couple seconds before sitting hard and slumping forward onto the table, his head lolling across his arms. "You might as well go ahead and kill me. I'll never be good for anything. I can't even be evil right! I'm a failure." He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, completely depressed, and waited for Vader to falsely accuse him of being melodramatic.

Instead, the Dark Lord pulled out the opposite chair and sat very straight, gloved hands clasped on the tabletop. "I am hopeful that you have some virtues," he said in an unsympathetic tone. "You are brave... foolishly so at times. You cared for and protected children on Tatooine."

"You killed children," Luke reminded him, raising his head, "so why's it good that I protected them?"

One hand made a sharp gesture. "There was much more to that incident than you understand. A contaminant was released – "

"Yada-yada, I know that part." He stared at his own hands. They looked a lot smaller than Vader's. These were definitely not choking hands. "Why did you put the factory there? Why were you even doing biological experiments?"

Vader sighed, the sound amplified by his vocoder. "It was my duty."

"Your duty," he repeated. "So you think that makes you innocent?"

In the quiet that followed, he could hear the low thrumming of the ship's engines matching the harsh breathing. The helmet bent forward. "Nothing can make me innocent, Luke," Vader said eventually, sounding tired. "Perhaps I never was. And neither, perhaps, were you."


	7. Learning More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN Chapter 27

Luke shivered. A strange feeling coursed through him. It felt like... he wasn't alone with his scary thoughts any longer, even though he hadn't been aware of being alone until this moment. He wished he could say it out loud so that Vader knew what he was feeling, but...

"I feel it too."

He looked up. "Stop reading my mind," he said without heat.

"I'm not." Was that the hint of a smile in Vader's voice? "Only the feelings that you broadcast so strongly... or perhaps those were my feelings that you received and reflected back."

"What, like I'm some sort of Force antenna?" He pretended to frown. "Great, I'm on the Darth Vader Channel." Amusement was born and died a quick death. "Does that mean I'm going to be evil like you? Unless you kill me, of course."

"I am  _ not _ going to kill you," the Dark Lord said with some exasperation. "Why do you continue to fixate on that idea?"

"I told you, that's what everybody  _ told _ me would happen! Evil or dead, not my choice!"

"Everybody? Just who is 'everybody'?"

"I _told_ you!" he snapped. "Don't you listen? Owen and Beru and Ben!"

"Three people. Hardly 'everybody'."

_”What_ ever," he muttered sullenly. Folding his arms, he refused to look at... well, his father, whether Vader admitted it or not.

"Address me with respect."

"What _ever!"_

Vader stood. "Address me with respect or suffer the consequences."

Luke rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "There you go with the 'consequences' threat again. If you're not going to kill me or make me evil, what consequences are left?"

"Young one, you do not know whom you are baiting!"

"Yeah, that's right, I don't, because you won't tell me!" Luke grinned wickedly, pleased to get even more reaction out of the Sith. "Speaking of knowing... did you know my father? Anakin Skywalker? Jedi Knight? Sound familiar?"

"Young one." With a swiftness surprising in someone so large, Vader came around the table, grabbed Luke by his already-too-tight collar and lifted him from the chair. "You will make a dramatic change in your attitude and you will begin  _ now _ or you will pay the price!"

Kritpeth, his feet weren't touching the floor! "Put me down! You're the one who needs an attitude adjustment, not me!" His wriggling was proving fruitless, so he tried punching at some of those buttons on Vader's chest. "Let me down! And I wanna see your face when you're yelling at me! Take off that stupid mask!"

"I cannot take it off!" the Sith roared and let go of Luke's collar so suddenly that the boy dropped to the floor, then turned his back, visibly shaking with violent rage and...

...something else. Luke frowned as he scrambled to his feet. "Why not?"

Fists clenched, but Luke could see little else behind the ebony cloak. "It... breathes for me," Vader finally hissed, so low that his words were barely audible.

"Breathes," he repeated. Well, that explained the famous Vader sound that kids used to imitate in school. They thought he breathed strangely because he was an alien monster, and Luke hadn't been able to correct them.

"I was injured. I... no longer have working lungs." The shaking was controlled but the fingers were still balled tight.

"No lungs?" Appalled but curious, he pressed, "How did it happen?"

One fist unrolled and the hand made a gesture of open frustration. "It happened... that is all you need to know. Anything further is not your concern. "

An image flashed through his mind - pain, rage, horrific screams... blazing fire that he'd seen before... in his dreams? - and he jerked his head to clear the scene. "Does that mean... is what Ben told me true? He said you were more machine than man."

Vader made a guttural sound, aborted suddenly as if the breathing regulator wouldn't allow it. "Then Obi-Wan had forgotten what makes a man," he said bitterly.

Luke was stricken into silence. Sure, he was angry at Vader for... for not... well, for something. But he hadn't meant to really hurt him by bringing up awful memories. He'd only wanted to hurt the big guy enough to make him respond. Well, he was responding all right. "I'm sorry," Luke whispered.

Vader whirled on him. "I do not want your  _ pity!"  _ he growled.

"Then what  _ do _ you want?" Luke retorted desperately, stepping back from the angry giant.

Breathing heavily, the Dark Lord said nothing for a long minute, thankfully taking time to control his temper. When he spoke again, his voice was tense but even. "I have assigned you the quarters next to mine. There you will find your new uniforms, which I expect you to wear every day. Your appearance will be consistently clean and neat. You will obey me in all things. In return, I will teach you that which you will need to know to survive your future."

Asking questions was obviously not a good idea right now. "Yes, sir," he replied, temporarily subdued.

"You are dismissed. Your quarters are to the right. I will come by shortly and I expect you to be ready."

_ Ready for what,  _ he wondered, but decided it would be wiser not to ask. Luke walked slowly to the door and hesitated before opening it. "Tell me, Darth Vader... " he managed to ask in a whisper, not daring to look back at the older man, "... who are you?"

If not for the sound of breathing, he would have thought Vader had vanished. But several respirations later, a deep voice behind him finally said:

"I am your father."


	8. Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds with FFN Chapter 28

His skin got clammy and his limbs started shaking. Luke barely made it into his new quarters before his knees gave way and he leaned against the wall beside the door, sliding down to hunch on the floor. Gasping frantically to suck in air, he wrapped his arms around his middle and rocked.

_ I am your father. _

Finally. Four words. He'd known this! He'd always known it. Why should just hearing the words hit him so hard? _ I am your father your father your father... _ they echoed over and over in his brain, like shouting in Beggar's Canyon  _...father father father... _

There were dark spots on his sleeves. He watched as more appeared. When he heard a sob, he realized it must be him. Crying like a baby. He was a grownup, he couldn't, he mustn't fall apart. He squeezed his arms, digging in his fingers, holding himself tighter and tighter as if he could force the tears to stop. Words from the last hour ripped through him. His father was disappointed in him, they'd both said terrible things, that wasn't what he wanted, he just wanted a father - a regular father. What was he going to do with  _ Darth Vader? _

And what was Darth Vader going to do with  _ him?  _ They didn't even like each other! They were nothing alike, they had nothing in common. His father was a powerful leader, while he was a no-good kid. There had to be a dreadfully evil force that controlled the galaxy, something that thought it was funny to first separate them, then bring them together like mismatched pieces of a puzzle that had no design.

It was too complicated to think about. He couldn't think. He just... hurt. Inside and outside, he hurt. His father was coming and he had to wear the new uniform, he had to be ready for his father, but he couldn't move.

_ Not good enough, Skywalker! _ He had to move. He had to be ready so his father wouldn't be even more disappointed in him. But his legs wouldn't budge. Even when he heard the door to his quarters slide open, they still wouldn't move. Darkness like an impending storm moved into his field of vision. Black boots, the edge of a shiny ebony cloak that eddied like shifting sands. He should say something--

"I'm n-n-not r-r-read-d-d - "

The deep voice interrupted, "You are a very strange child."

"I have a very strange father." He began to shiver harder. "And I'm n-not a ch-ch-child!"

"You are behaving like one. Still, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Vader said, and Luke couldn't even begin to interpret his tone.

The blackness swirled, enveloping him like a tent before puddling down on his head. Claws hooked into his armpits and he was lifted to his feet.

"You will make yourself ill." A black glove latched on his arm and steered him somewhere. "Be calm. Focus the Force to calm yourself."

"I d-d-don't know h-how!" He was pushed down into a cushiony seat and the Dark Lord paced in front of him, only the boots and the swirling cape visible to Luke's lowered gaze.

"Of course you know how!" Vader snapped. "Obi-Wan must have taught you  _ something!" _

"Who-  _ ERP!" _ The word came out as a very loud hiccup, making him even more embarrassed than he already was.

"Kenobi."

Right, Vader had called Ben by that Obi-Wan name before. "He d-didn't teach me any.. anything." His babyish sobbing was slowing, thank the stars. He sniffled, hiccupped, sneezed, and grabbed a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. Then he blew his nose, hard. Twice.

Vader sighed.

Luke realized his ersatz handkerchief was black. "Sorry." He looked up and sent his father a watery, apologetic smile, folding over the wet edge of the cloak a few times before squeezing it flat and releasing it. The quantity of stuff that came out of a nose always amazed him.

"You levitated an object during your medical examination." To Luke's relief, Vader was evidently going to ignore the fact that parts of his cloak were sticking together.

"I taught myself." He hiccupped again. "Stuff I read about Jedi and Sith doing. I can move little things and I can jump off roofs. Can the Force stop hiccups?"

"Hold your breath."

"That never—  _ hic!  _ —works!"

"It will work this time," Vader said firmly. "Inhale deeply."

After another hiccup, he drew in a long, loud breath. Vader's hand clamped over his mouth, leather-clad fingers squeezing his nostrils shut. Luke struggled, wondering if this was retaliation for the Cloak Catastrophe.

"Cease squirming."

Squirming? He was not  _ squirming! _ Just when he thought he couldn't go a moment longer without air, the hand was removed. Luke gasped twice, fully recovered. "What was  _ that _ for?"

"Your hiccups are gone," the Dark Lord declared smugly.

Skeptically, Luke folded his arms and waited. Nothing happened. Maybe Vader was right. Hell of a way to cure hiccups, though. The Dark Lord could use some classes in parenting.

"I have rules for you. They are not subject to discussion."

Luke stifled both a sigh and a smart response. It was second nature to snap retorts back at people, but Vader wasn't a person. Vader was his father, and this is what fathers were supposed to do-- tell their sons what to do. "Okay."

"You will address me with respect. In front of others, you will address me as 'my lord', 'sir', or 'master'."

"Can I call you 'father' in private?" Luke interrupted.

Vader hesitated before answering. "If you wish. However, no one must know of our relationship."

"Oh," he whispered, disappointed. That ban brought up several questions. "This isn't a discussion, but... who will people think I am? Is it private here? Aren't my quarters being monitored?"

"These quarters are not monitored. I am allowing you several privileges, privacy among them."

"Really? Cool!" He grinned. "What are my other privileges?"

It sounded like the Sith sighed again, but he couldn't be certain. "It will be assumed that you are my apprentice. It is unfortunate that the name 'Skywalker' was revealed. To help mitigate that blunder, I will address you only as Luke. Those newly familiar with the name 'Skywalker' have had losses of memory or have been otherwise dealt with."

Luke frowned. So Captain Piett wasn't calling him by his first name because he liked him, but because he was forced to. "What's wrong with 'Skywalker'?"

There was a short pause, then Vader sat beside him. The sofa cushion depressed, tipping Luke slightly. "Certain people are aware of my former identity. It is not safe for you to be known as my son."

"Oh." He finally had his father, but he still couldn't tell anyone. It was dismaying, but he refused to let it spoil the joy he was feeling right now, having a great conversation with his dad. Unless he was very much mistaken - and he hardly ever was - his solid steel old man was softening. There was one sure way to find out. Cautiously, ever so slowly, Luke began to lean sideways. Just a little. He kept tilting like a top-heavy building until the side of his head rested against Vader's arm.

There. That was much better. The cloak was really soft against his face. Too bad his father couldn't feel it. Did he always have to wear all that armor and padding? Even the gloves? Luke couldn't help wondering if there was anything left of his dad's body. Maybe he was a droid except for his brain. Still... he had a voice, so there had to be some of him left.

"What about my other privileges?" he prodded.

Vader had stiffened at the contact and now he tried to pull the edges of his cloak closer, like he wanted to withdraw into it. Luke choked back a giggle as the immaculate leather glove came in contact with the... well, his nose residue. Vader grunted and wiped off his fingers on a clean part of his cape, then stood. Luke caught himself before falling flat and sat up straight.

"I am going to change my cloak. Put on your uniform. When I return, we will go to the bridge. It is a privilege and," Vader added sternly as he strode to the door, "a test of your behavior. Fail this test or any other, and you will be confined to your quarters indefinitely."

_ That's harsh, _ he said silently. Aloud, he said, "Yes, Master," earning a glance that he suspected was actually a glare beneath that mask. But he grinned, feeling more light-hearted than he had in... well, in forever.

He finally had his father and he was positive that they were going to get along. 

Maybe.


	9. Getting to Know You

The "uniform" wasn't bad at all. In fact, he looked very mature in black and brown, sort of a mini-Vader but cuter. Too bad there was nobody on the ship to admire him. Not that he needed girls or boys to admire him, but it would be a pleasant change.

His image in the mirror didn't look confident, though; it looked anxious. He struggled to change his expression and ended up with a barely acceptable "Honest, I'm fine" look. Turning away from his substandard reflection, he wiped sweaty palms on his pants. He had so many questions about his future that he didn't know which one to start with. But his father had forbidden discussion.

Said father entered his suite without asking permission, so Luke left the 'fresher and went to confront him, hoping his appearance was acceptable. Vader dropped a box and a familiar tan bag on the desk.

"My pack! You brought it!" Luke exclaimed, forgetting his concerns and rushing over to rip it open. Colorful fabrics spilled out. "You didn't take my clothes!"

"I am not a thief."

His happiness dimmed a little and he sent a reproachful look at his father. "Neither am I. Not any more."

"I am relieved to hear that." Vader watched as he unwrapped the model skyhopper. "I am surprised that your friend was willing to part with work of such quality."

"Yeah, Fixer's good with his hands." He examined the ship carefully, ensuring it was fully intact. "It was a going-away present. Something to remember him by."

"Ah." Vader folded his arms. "I take it, then, that 'Fixer' is Laze Loneozner, the person who illegally gave you his identification papers?"

Good thing Vader couldn't see his heart pounding in sudden fear! "Uh... no, he didn't give them to me, I stole them."

"Along with his model?"

"No! I wouldn't steal from him! Uh... I mean, besides certain things... just his I.D..."

The helmet tilted slightly. When he spoke again, the Sith's voice sounded almost indulgent. "Fixer must be a good friend indeed to take such a risk for you."

"My best friend," he said sadly, blowing particles of Tatooine sand off its wings before placing the model at the far side of his desk. "For almost my entire life."

"That long?" Vader moved closer and leaned against the edge of the desk. One gauntleted hand reach toward Luke's face. He flinched, then forced himself to hold still. Fingers spread his collar wide and hovered over the bruises. After a moment, the hand dropped.

Silence stretched several seconds until it crossed the boundary from tolerable into awkward. Luke swallowed. "Does my, um, uniform look okay?"

Vader nodded once.

Luke fidgeted with the collar. "So... I'm not an officer or anything, right? I mean, this isn't like a real uniform, there's no insignia."

Big arms folded. "It is similar to what I wore as a young Jedi Knight and Sith warrior."

"Oh. But no cloak? I guess I could wear my old one." He rummaged through the pack.

"Absolutely not. At any rate, given your limited history with cloaks, I believe your laundry costs would bankrupt the Imperial Treasury."

"Very funny." He looked down, struggling to form words that would convey his worry without angering the Dark Lord, who seemed to be in a good mood for a change. He couldn't find any.

After a few more silent moments, Vader spoke. "Young one, you asked me a question that I answered. Now I have the same question for you."

He shot a wary glance at his father. "What is it?"

"Who are you?"

"What d'you mean?"

"What did you mean when you asked me?"

"In that case..." Luke smirked. "I'm your son. Lucky you."

"My son of multiple identities. I require clarification as to which one is the true Luke." The helmet tilted to the side and Vader raised three fingers. "Luke Lars is a miscreant who is not worth my time." One finger folded down. "Luke Skywalker, on the other – "

"You have different names, too!" he snapped defensively to avoid further ridicule. "It's no big deal! And you skipped 'Luke Vader', I was him my whole life. Of course, that was a Big Secret that I couldn't tell, so I never really was Luke Vader, was I? And now I  _ can't _ be Luke Skywalker because it's a dangerous name. Maybe I should just stick with Oz, he's smart and cool and dangerous and totally  _ not _ Luke." A glint of enlightenment flashed across his mind, then vanished almost as quickly, leaving him as confused as always.

"Oz," the Dark Lord murmured reflectively. "An interesting persona, one I could possibly utilize."

Inexplicably, he felt queasy. "So you want me to be Oz?" Disappointment interlaced with his confusion.

"At this time, I do not need to add another criminal to the Imperial payroll." Vader paused. When he continued, his tone was quieter, more reflective. "You must understand your importance. If your behavior continues to be as inconsistent and irrational as it has been, you will be useless to the Emperor and to me. You lack definition and purpose, and that is unacceptable."

"Then I don't know what my name is," Luke mumbled lamely, looking around the room for a reason to change the subject.

"Names are only labels," the Sith replied dismissively. "I want to know who  _ you _ are."

The impact of all Vader's words exhausted him, he sagged onto the edge of the desk, close but not  _ too _ close since proximity seemed to make his dad nervous. "I don't know." It was his automatic response, but when he thought for a moment, he realized it was the truth, and it was a truth too complicated to face right now, so he lashed out. "You've got  _ rules _ for me and I'm supposed to obey them, but I don't know who I am! How am I going to find out if you always tell me what to do? And if names are so damn unimportant, how come you have more than one?"

The helmet tilted slightly and his father sighed. "Child, I was not ignoring your existence during those months I allowed you freedom in Mos Eisley. I learned much about you. Your teachers regarded you as intelligent but a disruptive influence, your grades were poor because you missed many classes-- "

"I didn't – "

Vader raised one hand for silence. "These are not accusations, Son, but observations."

_ Son!  _ Luke's heart leaped into his throat. "Okay," he mumbled, suppressing his sudden need to hug the Sith Lord and get hugged back.

"You aroused great loyalty in some friends, but disappointment and fear in others. Your evasions of troops sent to catch you cannot all be attributed to your untapped Force skills; there is an innate cleverness in you that was also at work. You are naïve, yet streetwise. Wary, yet too trusting. You are mature enough to care for a group of orphans, yet among adults..." Vader surprised him by hesitating.

"What?" Luke asked nervously when the Dark Lord didn't continue.

"You behave either as a caricature of an irresponsible adult, one who abuses alcohol and illegal substances, or you behave considerably younger than your years. Your actions can be honorable or reprehensible. In my presence, you prefer to hide behind the protection of a puerile mask rather than expose your true self."

Overwhelmed by the onslaught of descriptions, he wasn't certain whether he had ultimately been complimented or insulted. But the last one... "What does puerile mean?" he asked uncertainly.

"Childish.  _ And _ obnoxious." Vader folded his arms, but it didn't seem to be a sign of displeasure this time. "You wear many masks."

"Lots of masks and lots of names, like father, like son!" Luke quipped, uncomfortable with the serious direction this conversation was taking. "But the obnoxious part isn't a mask, it's how I am!"

"If I believed that, I'd throw myself out an airlock," Vader said seriously. He shook his head. "Luke, your identity is not tied to the names you use. It is here." Black leather fingers brushed the center of his chest.

"Oh, yeah? Does that mean you're still the same inside?" He reached over and mimicked the gesture, careful not to press any buttons this time, and looked directly into the mask that hid his father's face. "The same as when you were named Anakin Skywalker?"

Something in the room rattled, and he snatched back his hand. Vader was angry. Luke could feel that anger inside him. Yet it wasn't only rage coursing through the Sith; there were more emotions, confusing ones, like earlier. Pain, sadness, loneliness... feelings that seemed uncharacteristic for a Sith Lord. But Luke couldn't quite tell the difference between his feelings and his father's, so maybe those were his sorrows and fears, not Vader's. "You wear a mask, too," he whispered, the words coming from his heart rather than his brain. "The difference is that everybody can see yours. They can't see mine. They think the mask is really me. Except...  _ you _ see me. Just like I see you."

Abruptly, the Dark Lord rose and stalked to the opposite side of the room. For a heart-stopping moment, Luke thought he was leaving. But Vader halted in front of the door and turned, fists on his waist. "We are talking about you. Your upbringing was inadequate. You were not allowed to develop your true self - to learn that you have an identity beyond being the son of Vader. I believe that is why you have no direction in your life." His father paused, studying him for interminable seconds. "I will endeavor to give you only rules of behavior, not rules that dictate who you should become. You have infinite potential, but you have not had the guidance that will allow you to reach that potential. Indeed, the deplorable lack of guidance has caused you to veer off the Path toward your Destiny."

Luke nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I've been thwarted a lot, that's for sure."

The Dark Lord made an odd, strangled noise as if he was clearing his throat. "Yes... Luke, you must change in order to survive. I am willing to provide guidance, but I have no experience as a father and will require input from you. If you have needs, tell me and I will fulfill them if they are reasonable."

That seemed like a lot of 'if's'. Luke slid him a sideways glance. "I have a need not to be choked. Think that's reasonable?"

Again came an unnerving silence. "I will try not to throttle you," Vader said finally, "and instead find another outlet for my anger."

"I hope you don't mean a person," he answered uneasily. "Maybe you could kick a door."

"Or you could attempt to be more reasonable and refrain from deliberately aggravating me."

"I never deliberately... Well. Okay, I suppose I could try."

"Thank you," his father replied dryly. "I realize I am requesting the nearly impossible."

"It's good that you realize it," Luke stated solemnly. His father was still hovering by the exit, so he looked around for something to detain him. His gaze landed on the forgotten box that Vader had brought. "Hey, what's this?"

"The beginning of your education." The Dark Lord approached and they both looked into the box crammed with datatapes.

"That's a lot of tapes," Luke said doubtfully. "It could take  _ months _ to get through them."

"One-point-eight years, to be precise. At the rate of one per week. If you are slower, it will take longer."

Speechless, he picked up a couple tapes and looked at the labels. _ "The History of Galactic Civilizations?"  _ He grabbed more. "They all say the same thing."

"There are a lot of civilizations in the galaxy," Vader said, something that sounded suspiciously like amusement in his voice. "However, that single study would certainly not give you a well-rounded education. There are also tapes of increasing levels of mathematics, geography, political-- "

"I don't like math," he complained.

"If you want to be a pilot, you will need to know how to program jump points, will you not?"

"That's what navicomputers are for!"

"And if your navicomputer fails?"

He sighed loudly. "Can't I use the Force?"

"No. Also," Vader continued in the same playful tone, as though he were enjoying himself, "there are tapes on physical sciences and biology, psychology, tactical-- "

_ "Palpatine's Emerging Empire: The Glorious Promise?" _ he quoted incredulously, waving a tape in the air. "You've got to be kidding! I'll get old and die before I get through these! It'll be so boring! Can't I have a tutor tell me this stuff instead?"

"This is an Imperial vessel, not a school. You will study quietly, and I will personally examine your understanding of these subjects by questioning you after completion of each tape. This a large commitment of my valuable time, so I will expect you to be prepared. You may select which category to study first."

"And to think I always  _ wanted _ a father!" he grumbled under his breath.

"Did you?" Vader asked after a slight pause.

Something had changed in the tone, Luke noted. "Yeah... sort of. Okay, if you want to torture me with all this, I'll go along with it. But hey, what are we doing hanging around here? I thought we were going to the bridge!"

"We are. And there you will demonstrate to me your ability to follow my rules. You will remain close by my side-- "

"Okay!"

" - yet at a respectful distance."

"How do I-– "

"You will address me properly-– "

"Just when we're on the bridge?"

"At all times," Vader continued, unperturbed by his interruptions. "You will not speak to anyone except to respond to greetings. You will not bother the personnel with questions. Agreed?"

"I guess." He grinned. "Can I fly the ship?"

"Can you fly any ship?" Vader parried.

"Not very well," he confessed. "I used to until I totaled the 'hopper years ago and Owen wouldn't get me another one."

"I will teach you to pilot."

"You will?" The door slid open and he stopped, staring at Vader with amazement.

The helmet inclined slightly. "It is a necessity. But not today, and we will start with a much smaller vehicle than a Star Destroyer."

"Okay. Thank you... Father," he added shyly. His father was going to teach him to fly a ship – someday maybe even this ship. He would be a pilot, a fighter pilot like in vid games! One day, he could even be a hero.

A hero was as good a person to become as any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Truth Interludes: Chapter 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578542/chapters/59418790) follows this chapter


	10. Listening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Truth Interludes: Chapter 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578542/chapters/59418790) occurs before this chapter

“I thought that went well," Luke said cheerfully. "Except for... you know, that one thing. And except for my stomach rumbling." His father was silent. "It wasn't my fault! I didn't have breakfast."

"Whose fault was that if not yours?"

They stepped into the lift, presumably headed back to their quarters. "Uh... no one brought it to me."

"There is an auto-nutrition system in your quarters. Learn how to use it and cease blaming others for your indolence."

"Yes, sir." Was it possible to please Darth Vader? If so, he wasn't doing it and that failure was making him nervous. He cleared his throat. "And the... other thing was an accident, you know."

"I would have put that on your grave marker: 'Luke Skywalker, dead at fifteen, victim of his own accident'."

"That's not funny!" he snapped heatedly. "You told me not to ask questions! How was I supposed to know that one tiny button would flood the entire bridge with decontam foam? It wasn't marked 'danger' or anything!"

"Would a skull-and-crossbones insignia have stopped you from pushing it?"

"I don't know why you think this is a joke." Luke scowled, leaning against the lift's wall.

"I am not remotely amused." It was Lord Vader who looked at him, not his father. Helmet-Face was completely unreadable and intimidating. "The crew knew to put on emergency masks; you were unprotected. You could have been killed if not for the fast action of Captain Piett."

Yeah, that was another thing. His  _ dad _ should have been the one to rescue him, not Cap! Luke sent his father a sulky glare. "You wouldn't have cared," he accused.

The lift slid to a smooth stop. Vader stalked into the gray corridor with Luke close at his heels. "Wait up! What's your rush? The ship isn't going anywhere!"

"I do not know how to respond to such a ridiculous statement. Of course the ship is going somewhere." The Sith came to an abrupt stop and looked at Luke. "What are you doing?"

He stepped back. "Nothing!" he denied automatically, feeling guilty even thought he was nearly positive that he was innocent of any wrongdoing at the moment.

"You are wrinkling my cloak again."

Sure enough, when he looked down he saw that his fingers had wound into the edge of the silky black fabric and were crumpling it, just like they'd done on the bridge when he was struggling to remain 'close, but at a respectful distance' while Vader kept walking away. "If you knew what I was doing, what did you ask?"

Not surprisingly, his pointed question was ignored. Also not surprisingly, Vader brought their stroll to a halt directly in front of Luke's quarters.

"Do I  _ have _ to study?" Despite his effort to sound neutral, his tone held a decided whine.

"No. I am withholding the audiopad so you  _ cannot _ study." The Dark Lord pressed the door panel, but did not step inside. "I want you to spend the next several days meditating, without distraction of any sort. Except," Vader held up his hand to halt Luke's immediate protest, "food."

"Meditating about what?"

The inky helmet tilted. "About your past and your future," his father said quietly. "I want you to review and analyze your actions to this point in your life. Consider where you should have acted differently and learn from those insights. Decide on the route your future will take and the behavior necessary to arrive at your desired destination. When you are done, we will talk."

"How will – "

The door slid closed. Luke punched the panel, but it was locked from the outside. Just  _ think?  _ For _ days? _ He'd die of boredom before then. Vader was the most unreasonable father in the galaxy and he doubted that he would ever find anyone who would disagree about that.

Luke pulled off his boots and padded over to his desk to figure out which one was the auto-nutrition panel and how it worked. If he was going to meditate, he'd need a lot of sustenance to keep up his strength. A bowl of chips sounded good right about now, but he was annoyed to find that his "menu" consisted of nothing but so-called 'healthy' choices. "Thanks a lot, Pop!" he muttered sarcastically, confident that Vader was telling the truth when he said Luke wasn't being monitored.

After sating himself on cereal, fruit and milk – his only beverage choice, totally unfair – Luke flopped on the bed and interlaced his fingers behind his head. "How am I supposed to meditate? It would be easier to talk, wouldn't it?" he asked the absent Vader.

He was struck by a brilliant idea. Vader's words were so predictable, Luke could be both of them and have a dialogue. "What an excellent idea, Luke," he said in a deep voice. "You are a brilliant son."

"Thanks, Dad. So... what d'you want to talk about?"

"About my favorite subject – you, of course!"

"I love talking about me." What had Vader instructed him to meditate about? "Uh... my past, right? What I might have done differently." He stared at the gray ceiling, considering. "Well, I don't know what that would have been. I mean... like I said, everybody expected me to turn out bad."

"And just who," he asked in a snide Vader-voice, "is 'evvvverybody'?"

Luke heaved a sigh. "Do I have to keep telling you over and over? Owen and Beru and Ben!"

"Hardly 'everybody'."

All right, fine. So his teachers didn't know he was Vader's son... and his friends didn't. And the entire populations of Anchorhead and Mos Eisley didn't.

"Who else knew beside those three? Surely, my precious son, you didn't base the course of your life on the opinions of three people?"

Luke sat up. It was disconcerting to realize how much he could sound like his father. "I don't even need you here to talk to you!"

"Quit stalling. Someone else knew. Who?"

There was only one other, of course. "Me," he admitted quietly. "I knew. I'm the one who didn't expect anything from me. I'm the one who was sure I'd turn out badly. That's what you're saying, right?" For a moment, he forgot he was alone and waited for a reply.

But all the answers were tucked away in his own head. "Yeah, okay, that's what I'm saying. Owen and Beru and Ben may have labeled me, but I created the 'Son of Vader'... and so what? Big deal. Am I supposed to feel guilty? Or is this supposed to be like some big... revelation, when I suddenly 'see the light' and decide to change my life? Pah!"

With a snort, he closed his eyes. His father had given him vague instructions about meditating, but they were confusing and unclear. What he'd already learned about himself was disconcerting, so when in doubt....

Forget about it and take a nap.

Sleeping was supposed to be a refuge, but it definitely wasn't this time. He twisted and turned, sweating, heart racing, running in darkness, away from fire that licked at his legs, screaming as invisible hands cut off his oxygen supply and he was lost in the darkest place he had ever been, he couldn't see or hear or breathe and the planet was shaking, shaking –

"Wake up!" a deep bass voice said sharply, and he was yanked upright.

Confused, he rubbed his eyes and blinked, his gasps echoing the pounding in his chest. "What?"

"You are having a nightmare." Darth Vader was sitting on the edge of his bed. "You were told to use sleep patches, why didn't you?"

"It's not night! I'm not sleeping, just taking a nap." He studied the black-clad form, trying to assess his father's level of anger. "Besides, patches are for an addict and I'm not an addict."

"You are not," Vader said, shocking him – but in a good way this time. "However, it is only thanks to the power of the Force that you are not. A normal human would be."

This was news. So if he couldn't become addicted, then there were probably all sorts of things that he could –

"No," the Sith said sharply. "The Force only works to prevent physical addiction. Psychological dependency is still possible... and such dependency would temper your access to the Force."

Yeah, well... he didn't really want to use spice anyway. His life was much more interesting now and he didn't need drugs to 'spice' it up. "How did you know I was having a nightmare?"

"I feel your strong feelings." Vader stood and walked to the desk, inspecting the empty containers from his lunch.

A light went on in his brain, flashing to get his attention. "Hey! There was something you said earlier about that... umm... I wasn't really paying attention."

"Not an unusual occurrence."

His cheeks heated. "You talk a lot, I can't listen to everything!"

"You are blaming me for your inability to pay attention?"

Luke sighed heavily. "Will you let me get to the point? You said that maybe I wasn't feeling my feelings, that maybe I was reflecting your feelings." The helmet inclined slightly, encouraging him to continue. "Then how will I know whose feelings I'm feeling?"

"With more experience, you will know. And if you are more honest with yourself, you will easily see the difference."

He considered. "Okay, but before, when you said that... I was feeling glad that I wasn't alone anymore because you're here. So if I was reflecting your feelings that means you were feeling the same thing. And  _ that _ means you were lonely without me and you like me and you're glad I'm here!"

"Is that what it means?" Vader asked coolly, but there was a hint of discomfort in his voice.

"Yep," he said smugly. "Are you going to say I'm wrong... Father?"

It was Vader's turn to sigh. "How did you get to be so precocious?"

"That's better than obnoxious... isn't it?" he answered, a little uncertain if he was being insulted yet again.

"I suggest that your first educational tape be language skills." His father paused. "Precocious means that in some ways you are developed beyond your years. You can be very perceptive at times."

"Oh." He smiled a little, pleased. "I thought..."

"Speak." Was that a command or an encouragement?

"I thought you thought I was... stupid." Flushing, he realized how silly that sounded. "I mean..."

There was a longer than usual pause. Luke counted six wheezing breaths before his father spoke. "I regret if I have given you that impression. You are far from 'stupid'. You are, however, uneducated... a regrettable circumstance that we will rectify."

"Yes, Master."

Pause two wheezes. "As for my own education, I believe you will be an excellent challenge to my patience."

"Oh, yeah?" He smiled wickedly. "Wanna race? Which of us do you think will win?"

"I was not aware we were entering into a competition."

His grin widened. What the hell. He had a trick that always drove Uncle Owen crazy, and it was pretty much guaranteed to push his dad over the edge, too, and put a fast end to this race. "I was not aware we were entering into a competition."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I bet your pardon?" Luke echoed.

Vader sighed. Luke sighed.

Then Vader said nothing. Ten wheezes. Twenty wheezes. Thirty wheezes. Forty.

"Aren't you going to say anything else?" Luke blurted, unable to stand the silence any longer.

"Aren't you going to say anything else?" Darth Vader repeated in ominous, measured tones.

Luke gasped. "Oh, no! Don't you dare!"

"Oh, no. Don't you dare."

He stood and placed his fists on his waist. "Don't do that!"

"Don't do that."

_ "Stooooop!" _

"Stop."

Stymied, Luke pressed his mouth shut tight and glared.

Vader unfolded his arms. If that mask could smirk, it was definitely smirking now. A black-gauntleted hand reached out and a tape flew into it. The other hand reached into the ebony cloak and brought out a small audiopad. They were both held out to Luke, who grudgingly accepted them.

His father left—he didn't just walk, he  _ strutted,  _ like he was proud of himself! Somehow Vader had gotten what he wanted, which apparently was for Luke to shut up and study, and Luke wasn't quite sure how it had happened.

Was there a tape here titled  _ Dad Vader 101? _


End file.
